


I Hate You

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of being pissed off with Tom / Tom being 'in the doghouse'.</p>
<p>This was inspired by the wonderful Tabby creation by http://kanevixen.tumblr.com/ (go there right now! it’s the stuff of legend!!), where Tom cocks up in a relationship and there’s a period where his girl puts some distance between them while she regains his trust (less intimacy). I started to wonder what things may have been like for Tom during that period of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate You

Tom came home to find her sitting on the living room floor, enrapt and giddy as she watched Glee. He had often sat on the sofa by her, reading quietly, half-distractedly watching her from time to time as she bobbed to the music. It was one of the times he found her at her most endearing, and habitually when Glee was on he would inevitably lean down to her to kiss her neck and tickle her.

This time, when he was a mere hair’s breadth from touching her, she leaned away from him, and he felt pain directly hit his soul.

He returned back to his book, chewing his lip nervously.

He had to leave the room for a moment.

______________

She had squealed, her eyes lightening up, bounced on the spot, and all but leapt onto her old university friend when they trundled into the cafe.

Tom stood behind, eyes diverted, wishing she would hug him like that.

Cups emptied and the bill paid, she curled her arm around her friends waist as she led them out of the little coffee shop, not waiting for Tom as he shrugged on his jacket and collected his umbrella. He simply watched them walk out, swallowing, then quickly pushed past the queue at the counter to catch up.

_______________

It was her voice. Singing, so happy, and almost child-like, amongst the splashes in the bath.

He stood outside the bathroom door with a heavy heart. They weren’t bathing together at the moment. He opened his mouth to start singing along with her, but thought better of it, and carried on down the hall, head bowed, singing softly under his breath to himself.

_______________________

The thunderstorm had caught her.

She returned to the flat _drenched_. Hair peeling across her face, shoulders slumped, little glistening globs of rain meshed into her wooly sweater.

When Tom opened the door, he muttered her name quietly and instinctively went to hold her, to warm her, to soothe her, but she just rushed past and said she needed to get out of her wet clothes.

He felt utterly, utterly useless.

____________________

He heard sobbing.

Hiccuping, breathless sobbing, coming from the bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar and he could see her legs dangling off the bed, squirming a little as she cried.

"Hey," he rushes to her and kneels by the bed, carefully taking one of her hands in his. Her face is puffy, wet with tears, and in her other hand she holds a sodden tissue.

"I can’t….," she pleads, shaking her head, her eyes shut tightly. "Tom, I just can’t…,"

His eyebrows knit together in worry, his heart thumping, a sinking feeling creating a dull ache in his stomach. “Please tell me, what can’t you do?”

"This," she moans, smearing the tissue across her eyes. "Playing the bad bitch. Keeping you away. It’s killing me, Tom. Jesus, I think it’s going to kill me." Her shoulders shake as she begins sobbing again.

He moves to soothe her, wanting to stroke her head, wanting to scoop her up in his arms but still so unsure.

She continues. “I don’t want to do this, but I feel like if I don’t then you won’t understand how much you hurt me. Then you’ll do it again. I _have_ to do this.”

She looks so confused, torn, and so small.

"But all I can think about is you. And even now when I’m crying over _this_ , I just want you to comfort me. I want you to be the one to comfort me even when you hurt me.” She sniffles. “Isn’t that just stupid.”

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead on the mattress near her. “This is breaking my heart,” he says quietly, more to god than her. He is at an utter loss as to what to do. To regain her trust - keep to her boundaries. But she professes that she wants him, in spite of it. Dare he cross the line and hold her?

He strokes her fingers with his, and says her name to get her to look at him.

"Punish me. Keep punishing me. I don’t care how. Take my Shakespeare books, ban cakes from the house, smash up my sports watch, tell all your friends that I’m terrible in bed, I don’t care, do _anything_ , do all those things, but please, I beg of you, let me hold you. Let me hold you. Stop punishing yourself. You need my hugs and I have them right here, for you. I always will.”

"I can’t…," she sobs, but he soothes her with "it’s okays" as he crawls up onto the bed, and wraps his arms around her firmly. She buries her face in his shirt, her emotions swirling and getting the better of her.

"Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay," he smooths his palms along her shoulder blades, warming her.

"But, I… I’m meant to be angry at you," she pulls her hands in and makes little fists, balling against his chest. She pushes, lamely, most of her energy gone into crying.

"You hate me," he whispers.

"I hate you," she murmurs, her fists loosening until she rests her palms limply on his chest.

"That’s okay, you can hate me," he begins to rock her gently in his arms. "Give me your hate. Give me anything. Just keep me near you."


End file.
